The Monsters we Need
by ShadowofHawk55
Summary: The first thing he did when he left the vault was kill a town. Now he's saving the wasteland, one battle at a time. Now, he meets a man who's first instinct was to build a town when he left his vault. Now, that man is trying to enslave the waste land. Which of them is the monster?
1. Chapter 1

"Die puny humans! It our time now!" the Super Mutant cried as it held down the trigger on its minigun. 5mm rounds filled the air and slammed against the wrecked car that Knight Maxon and the Rivet City guards were hiding behind. The mutants had ambushed the water convoy and the opening salvo killed most of the caravan, including two of the Brahmin. The third was currently on the ground mooing in pain with dozens of projectiles in its body. The corpses of dead caravan guards and Rivet City Security members littered the road. "This is Knight Maxon, Super Mutant ambush in progress. Reinforcements requested," Maxon near shouted into the comm device in his helmet. More static. "We need to get out of here," one of the Security members shouted, after nearly having their head blown off. Maxon enabled his external speakers to speak to the man, "Negative, we are going to hold this position until back up arrives,"

"Yeah, take it you muty bastards!" the woman to his right said, standing up and holding down her submachine gun's trigger. Her head and upper torso exploded. The man puked. "We're security, not soldiers, we aren't trained for this," the man cried. Maxon evaluated his options. There were two other members of the caravan alive to his left, behind an old bus stop, and another to his right, hiding in the guts of one of the dead Brahmin. He stood up from behind his cover and snapped off a pair of shots from his laser rifle, melting the face of one of the mutants. He ducked back down, but not quick enough as a few rounds bit deep into his suit of recon power armor. He was about to call a withdrawal when the sound of a plasma rifle entered the cacophony of battle. The minigun ceased firing and several mutants redirected their gaze to something previously unaccounted for.

A mutant was thrown off a rooftop and land on the ground with a meaty thunk. Bolts of plasma left the roof, turning the upper torsos of a pair of mutants to green goo. A white suit of T-51 Recon Power Armor leaped off the roof and ran to his position, 5.56 and .32 caliber bullets colliding with the side of the armor. Sliding into the cover Maxon was using. Behind his armor, Maxon grimaced. "Paladin Ridger, responding to reinforcement request Knight," the white armored man said. A mutant stepped out from behind cover and before Maxson could react the Lone Wanderer let off a trio of blasts from his rifle and blew the mutant to a pile of goo. He ejected the Micro Fusion cell from his weapon before loading another one in.

"Sir, the support is greatly appreciated," the security man said while awkwardly saluting. Ridger turned to the man, "I'm going to attempt to push their position, Maxon you'll follow behind. Officer…"

"Pritchard, Officer Pritchard, sir," the officer provided.

"Pritchard, once we have their attention you push to your compatriots and fall back to the subway entrance two blocks down and wait for me or Maxon," Ridger ordered. He turned his head to Maxon, "You ready to move?"

"Sir yes sir," he said, gritting his teeth. Ridger didn't seem to notice. He threw himself over the edge of the car and ran towards the mutants, firing off plasma bolts as he went. The mutants began to fire at the Wanderer, attention drawn away from the others. Maxon steeled himself and leaped over his makeshift cover, firing his weapon at the mutants. The remaining members of the caravan took off towards the metro tunnel. Maxon dropped a mutant who attempted to get the minigun. Ridger pulled a plasma grenade off his belt and threw it onto a roof holding a pair of mutants. Blood, gore, and goo exploded off the roof, raining down on Maxon's armor.

Ridger reached a building. "Hostiles inside," he shouted to Maxon who ran and slammed the door open. Waiting for him was a massive super mutant wielding a super sledge. The damned creature smiled and swung the super sledge and crashed it into his chest. He felt ribs break and the armor shatter. The pain was so intense he wasn't able to react to the mutant as it raised the hammer to slam down onto his head. Ridger turned the corner and fired his Microwave Emitter point-blank at the mutant. It's upper body simply ceased to exist as the weapon did its brutal work. He picked up Maxon, whose grip had loosened on his weapon. The laser rifle fell to the ground. "My weapon, I need to get it!" he shouted at Ridger.

"No time," Ridger said. As he said it, several more mutants entered the room from many doors. Ridger took aim and calmly eliminated them. He also slowly marched backward, holding onto Maxon who was squirming rapidly. A mutant trampled over Maxon's rifle, splitting it in two. Ridger made it back onto the road and more mutants streamed out. Bullets were flying all around them. He heard whistling on the wind a threw Maxon away before a missile collided with the ground directly below his feet. It threw him to the ground, knocking his gun from his hand. He tried to reach for it but a super mutant placed its boot onto his neck. He felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his helmet and knew that at this range the helmet wouldn't stop the bullets.

Then he heard the familiar sound of rotor blades and a minigun warming up. "Suck it, bitch," he told the mutant before a dozen 5mm rounds tore its chest open. He stood up and picked up Maxon, who was still dazed after the throw and began to drag him to the metro again. Just in front of him, a vertibird began its descent. Stepping off came five Brotherhood members wearing their standard t-45 recon power armor and three brotherhood members wearing the new t-60 assault variant that had been scavenged from the Commonwealth to the North. They began to clear out the mutants, one suit of t-60 moved over to Ridger and Maxon. Maxon tried to straighten up after seeing the insignia on the suit, the symbol of Elder Sara Lyons.

"Easy there knight," she told the young man, "I don't want you killing yourself," Maxson ceased his movement. A scribe left the vertibird and took Maxon from Ridger and dragged him aboard the aircraft. "Elder," Ridger said, saluting.

"At ease Paladin," she said, "Status of the convoy?"

"Three survivors in the metro tunnel a block down, one hiding in the brahmin corpse. No idea on the status of the cargo, but given that it's mutants any loss was most likely accidental," he reported. Sara nodded and looked over at what had been the mutant base, which now was strewn with the bodies of dead mutants. One of the other t-60 suits, being piloted by Sentinel Tristan, marched over to the pair. "Hostiles eliminated, no Brotherhood fatalities," the man reported.

"Good," Sara said, "Load up the water you can. We'll take it back to Rivet city to be added to a new convoy," The two men saluted their commanding officer and started loading the supplies as two of knights in t-45 stood watch. After several minutes of work, the crates of Aqua Pura were loaded onto the vertibird and the Brotherhood members flew off, two of the knights staying behind to help lead the survivors back to Rivet City. Maxon was strapped to a bench in the back, his armor having been removed, with the Scribe monitoring his injuries. He was obviously under the influence of anesthetics, his head slightly swaying like a stoned raider.

"He did good for what he had to work with," Ridger said, "Except for when he barged into that room," Sara looked at Ridger, "But?" she asked him. She knew him too well.

"But, he's impulsive. Granted, he's a teenage boy but he's a teenage boy with access to power armor and laser weapons. One with something to prove to his superiors," he said, "One superior more accurately," Most in the citadel knew about Maxon's attraction to Sara, most felt similarly. But Maxson took it to a level that most found borderline fanatical, going so far as to start fights with other younger members of the Brotherhood. Of course, no one mentioned it to Sara, out of respect for the two of them.

"You're out of line, Paladin," the Sentinel said to Ridger.

"His need to prove himself nearly got himself killed and had a missile thrown at me. I think I'm perfectly in line," the Paladin said stepping closer to the sentinel who, thanks to the assault armor, stood a good head above him. The two were staring each other down, neither was willing to back down. "Cut your bullshit out," Sara near shouted at the pair, "Paladin, do not speak to your superior in that tone. Sentinel, he brings up a good point. It was a mistake to give Maxson command of this operation. When we get back to the castle, restrict him to Citadel defense after he's recovered."

"Yes elder," Tristan said, slamming his fist against his chest. They stood in silence until they arrived at the Citadel. Sara motioned for Ridger to follow her as she marched to her office, not bothering to remove her armor. Ridger followed like an obedient hound. Entering the room, she closed the door. "Please attempt to rationalize what you did out there," she said. Ridger removed his helmet.

"Saving Maxon's ass? Challenging Tristan? Revealing the kid's affections for you? Or all three?" he asked. She gave him an exasperated look, "You've been a member of the brotherhood for nearly a year. You should know how things are handled by now. You standing up to Tristan doesn't show you as a brother, but a wastelander who's touting power armor."

"And?" Ridger said, "I get the job done what does it matter what they think?"

"It matters because not everyone in the Brotherhood is happy with the status quo. There have been whispers that the Outcasts might've had the right idea," she answered "And other's that question my judgment in letting you stay,"

"Do you feel that way?" he asked, "Does the Pride think that way?" She shook her head.

"Those who fought with you and me at the purifier and the air force base know you can be trusted. They know the value you bring," she told him, "But the new blood from the West and the men manning the long-range outposts don't know you the way we do."

He moved over to a small table set against a wall with a picture of Lyons and her father. To the left, there was also a picture of the Pride, including him, after the raid on the Adams Airforce Base. He stared at it for a moment. He said something inaudible to Lyons.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"I said fuck them," he told her, "Where were they when we fought the Enclave tooth and nail for the purifier? Where were they when Tristan led the hunt for the Enclave after the fall of Ravenrock? Where were they when we attacked Adams Airforce base when Cross died?" his voice lingered for a second, "Where were they when you and I lay dying after the purifier's shockwave? They were either fucking toasters in the western bunkers or fapping off waiting for the fighting to be done by the Pride,"

Sara had no response. Ignoring the crass language, he was right. There had been several fights between what remained of the Pride after the war with the Enclave and those who hadn't participated, mostly deriving from the fact that her father and, now her, distributed the purified water across the wasteland. Ridger had stood with her when others among the Brotherhood hadn't. His anger was justified, but out of line.

"Don't express these opinions outside this room," she said, "Moreover, don't antagonize the other members of the Brotherhood. Can you do that?" He looked at her, his face was the emotionless mask he took whenever he needed to hide something from her. "On one condition, you take a break," he said. Before she could open her mouth to protest, "When was the last time you rested properly, and no the three hours of sleep you get every other night doesn't count," he told her.

She stayed silent, not knowing how to answer. "What did you have in mind?" she asked.

"Tristan, Vargas, Kodiak, and I planned on heading over to the Muddy Rudder tonight," he informed her "Are you interested?"

She began to laugh, "You and Tristan planned this?" she asked.

"The argument that got you and me alone? Yes," he told her, "The topic? No, that happened because Maxon was being a teenager. So, again, are you game?"

"You're buying Paladin, that's an order," she told him, gracing him with a smile.

"Yes ma'am," he said, saluting before leaving.

Author's note

A few things I quickly want to say 1) this is my first fic ever so any feedback, positive and negative. 2) In this Maxson was Fifteen during the events of Fallout 3 instead of his canon age. 3) Just quick clarification when I say Recon power armor I mean the power armor found in Fallouts 3 and New Vegas while the Assault Pattern is the Variant found in Fallout 4.

Thanks for reading and please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Around eight pm the senior members, official and unofficial, of Lyon's Pride left the Citadel aboard a Vertibird en route to Rivet City. After the Fall of the Enclave, the Brotherhood began to integrate themselves more and more with the Capital Wasteland's civilian population. This led to Elder Owen Lyons instituting an off-duty uniform for use by Brotherhood members to allow civilians more ease of mind when members of the Brotherhood were off duty and making use of the various bars and stores in non-brotherhood settlements, the most common being Rivet City.

The uniform consisted of re-dyed Enclave officer uniforms, Paladins and above wearing a police hat, with any insignias replaced with the Brotherhoods or, in the case of Sara and her pride, the pride's insignia. The Vertibird landed in the plaza just in front of Rivet City, where a few guards moved closer ready to act just in case things got violent. After confirming their identity, the bridge was extended and the group moved inside towards the city's bar, called the Muddy Rudder.

Entering inside the smell of alcohol, unwashed bodies, and poorly cleaned tables washed over them. Despite the sun not having set yet, there were several patrons already drunk and one of the custodial staff cleaning the blood of the floor showed that a brawl had already ensued. Sadly, it was the only bar within a realistic range of the Citadel and despite Rivet City's importance to the water trade the owner hasn't invested in renovations or at least cleaning the place. The Brotherhood members sat at a table by the door and a waitress walked over. "What'll it be?" she asked.

"I'll have a whiskey," Ridger said, "Order what you want brothers, I'm paying. Elder's orders," a minor bit of laughter followed the comment. Vargas, Tristan, and Kodiak made their orders, two things of vodka for the Paladins and scotch for Tristan. "I'll have a water," Sara said.

"She meant a whiskey," Ridger 'corrected'. She looked at him exasperated. He seemed oblivious to it, "You need to relax, I remember reading a prewar medical journal that talked about how stress could lead to long term health problems. So, you can stay sober, drinking water, and remove slivers of your life worrying about the fate of the wasteland every second of every day. Or, get a whiskey and blow off some steam among friends,"

Sara stayed silent for a moment. "Who wrote the journal?" she asked him.

"The first name was scorched away. The surname was Selye," he answered, not trying to hide his emotions from her. She thought deeply, trying to place the name but nothing came to mind. But she hadn't been given a reason to not trust Ridger yet. "I'd like to see the book when we get back to the citadel," she told him. He nodded in response. She turned back to the waitress, "I'll have a Vodka." The women jotted the order down and walked back down to the counter. Kodiak and Vargas were chuckling at the exchange between their fellow Paladin and the Elder. Others among the brotherhood would've been surprised by the banter but they were all part of the Pride and had bonds that went past the normal ones of the brotherhood.

"Heard about what happened with Maxon and the water convoy," Vargas said, "Lucky for him you were nearby,"

"Yeah, lucky," Ridger said, "We were also damn lucky that Sara and Tristan were in the air or else we'd be dead,"

"I'm sure you'd have found a way," Kodiak said, "You've fought your way through a prewar military base infested by Enclave, I'm sure a few mutants wouldn't have been a problem." The drinks arriving stopped the explanation that a mutant had a gun to the back of his head, and despite the popular belief among many in the waste land he wasn't invincible. His eye's met Tristan's and Sara, and they acknowledged the fact that he'd have been a dead man if they hadn't been in the air.

For a few hours they sat there, eventually ordering dinner, just exchanging banter and telling war stories, some were old and had been heard many times but others were either new or untold. One that interested the group the most was how Ridger acquired his microwave emitter. How he had a bit of his brain bashed out and the rivalry between Desmond and the Brain. Another story he told was how he acquired his power armor, the Anchorage simulation and the infighting within the Outcasts, which garnered a smirk from most at the table. But Sara could tell there were some stories he didn't share, whether they hurt too much or he didn't trust them, she didn't know. But she had heard rumors of Grayditch, Arefu, and Megaton. But decided not to push him on the topics.

At around 11pm, at least according to the clock on the wall the group decided to return to the Citadel. Leaving the table, a man stumbled over, blocking Sara's way. His breath stank of alcohol and vomit stained his shirt. "Hey pretty lady, would like some company tonight?" he asked. He was obviously too drunk to notice the Brotherhood insignias on herself and her companions. "No thanks," she said, trying to be civil. The refusal seemed to anger the man, "Hey lady, I gave you a compliment," The other Brotherhood members took notice of the man now. Tristan stepped forward, but Sara waved him back. She tried to get passed him but he grabbed her and pushed her back. He started to move to his belt, way drunker than she originally thought. Brock, the bar's hired muscle, moved towards the drunken man but the sound of a weapon being drawn stopped him. Another man, appearing less drunk, had drawn his gun.

"Lady my brother's a gentleman and it'd be rude for you to decline his request," the armed man said. Before anyone could move the armed man shouted in pain as a bottle collided with his head. The man that had grabbed her found his face slammed against the bar counter. He collapsed to the ground, crying. Ridger moved over to the man who he'd thrown the bottle at and kicked the gun away, lifting him against the wall. The man pissed his pants, seeing who he was dealing with through his drunken stupor. "Get the fuck out of this bar," Ridger whispered to the man, "And take that trash with you." He dropped the man, who ran to his brother. From his pocket, he pulled out a pouch and threw it on the bar counter and ran out of the bar.

Ridger left the bar after about a minute of them departing, no one standing in his way. After recovering from the shock of the scene Sara and the other members of the Pride chased after him. The ride back on the vertibird was silent. Kodiak attempted to pry into Ridger, but the stare of death that he received stopped him. Returning to the citadel he practically leaped off the aircraft and stormed off to the barracks.

Sara found him in his private quarters that was awarded to him after receiving the rank of Paladin. It was incredibly sparse. Aside from the bed, wardrobe, and desk the only thing in the room was a copy of the same picture of the Pride Sara had in her office and a picture of Ridger and his dad. He was packing, what little he had stored in the wardrobe. He slammed it closed, "I'm leaving," he said.

She was caught off-guard by the statement. "You can't just…leave," she told him, "There are protocols involved," he slammed his fist into the wall leaving a fist-shaped dent in. His face was filled with absolute anger. "I can't stay," he said, the anger replaced with sadness. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and walked right past her, "Goodbye Sara," he said walking out.

She didn't know how to feel about this. For the first time in a long time, she didn't fully know how to react. She had no options on the table. This had been completely unexcepted. He had walked past her, towards the armory to retrieve his armor and weapons. She just stood there, not knowing how to proceed. Finally, she decided to head to the courtyard and get fresh air. Exiting she saw Ridger standing on the door used by Liberty Prime. She started marching towards him, to talk to him when a blue light enveloped him. He began to rise and everyone moved away from it. He continued to rise and rise and rise and then disappeared. Sara shed a tear having lost a close friend, and maybe something more.

Author's Note

I don't really know how to feel about this chapter. I'd like to point out that I've had this one sitting around for a few months, this is as good as I could get it. Maybe I'm over thinking it, I don't know but any advice on this one would be really appreciated.

Please Review.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note -

Quick Public Service Announcement I will be posting this on Fridays. Chapter 2 came ot early because I do not consider that worth being considered a chapter. On with the show.

"Eta till drop 2 minutes," Ridger told the group of people in front of him. Each of them was doing something different to handle the stress. Paulson was spinning his revolver, slowly getting faster. Michael was fixing and unfixing his bayonet onto his rifle. Marco was chewing gum. Somehow, he always managed to have a piece that wasn't too badly irradiated. Elliot was wrapping bandages around his arm and unwrapping them. Uncle Leo was cracking his fists, the super mutant part of his mind less apprehensive more excited for the coming fight. At the front of the shuttle Squirrel and Fawkes were piloting them into position. "Captain, be advised incoming heavy fire. A couple missiles just hit the side of the shuttle but shields held," Fawkes told him.

"Alright, if you need to change the landing site let me know," Ridge told the super mutant. "Okay boys and girls, this is it," he shouted to the crew in the back. Paulson stopped the spinning his revolver and holstered it, picking up his disintegrator and putting on the helmet for his recon Hellfire armor. Michael fixed the bayonet for the last time and activated his stealth boy. Marco spat out the gum and put his helmet on, something that would definitely get Squirrel on his ass. The young man was deeply protective of his shuttle. Elliot put the bandages away and picked up his atomizer. He was there for the wounded, not the combat. Uncle Leo grabbed his super sledge, nearly spasming with anticipation. They felt the vibrations as the shuttle landed. The doors opened and Ridger and Paulson ran forward. Shots fired wildly at them. The shield on the alien shuttle held and any shots that hit them barely got past the outer layer of protection.

That's when their weapons, stolen from the arsenals of aliens, barked. Each shot completely and utterly atomized their target, each super mutant that was hit just disappeared. The sound of cushioned boots greeted Ridger's ears as Michael ran off the shuttle and towards the forward post he was assigned to. Marco and Uncle Leo ran forward, their weapons joining the cacophony of battle. Elliot followed after the gunshots had ended. Between their superior protection, or in the case of Ridger and Uncle Leo their superior physiology and armor, and the general inaccuracy of the mutants no one had suffered an injury. They moved towards the central building of the compound, Michael keeping watch.

Stacking up on the door Ridger counted down on his fingers. The sound of a sniper discharging and a mutant dying, another unloading its gun wildly before a gurgled scream left its lips as, presumably, Michael slammed his bayonet into the monster's throat. He made a fist than opened his palm and the door was kicked open. Inside several mutants and centaurs attacked, some charged and some shot. The disintegrators tore through the mutated creatures, and Leo bashed their heads in. "Dammit Leo," Marco yelled, "Quit getting into the line of fire,"

"Just don't miss human," Leo shouted, as he pulled his hammer out off a particularly stiff Centaur body, "Simple as that."

"Cut the chatter," Ridger shouted, bludgeoning a mutant to death. "Split ranks," he told them. Going down the stairs he came across more of the mutants and their attack dogs. Strangely, these ones had laser weaponry. Then he came across a scene that made him more than angry. On a counter along the wall cracked and damaged Brotherhood armor. On one table was a woman who been opened up and her insides scooped out. Bits of people were on another table in the middle. There also was a malnourished man in one of the cages. He shouldered his weapon and pulled the door from its hinges and threw it against a wall. He grabbed the man and pulled him to his feet. Half carrying half dragging the man. The sound of bullets meeting flesh and metal stopped him in his tracks. 5.56 caliber bullets. Low chance of penetrating his armor, especially with the reinforcement made with scavenged alien material. The man on the other hand, not so much.

His pained screams filled the hall then were cut short as life left his body. Ridger dropped the body. He let out a guttural, animalistic scream. He turned and ran at the mutants. They charged in response, throwing their guns down and drawing their melee weapons, a board and a tire iron. He threw the first blow breaking one's face. The other smashed its board into his armor, which in turn shattered to splinters. He grabbed its face and slammed it into his knee before throwing it aside. He slammed his boot into the face of the first one. Stamping his heel onto the neck of the one he had thrown into the wall he heard more coming. He picked up the tire iron and yelled again. He charged, surprising the new challengers. They didn't get the chance to react as he plowed into them, like a scythe to wheat.

It became a red haze of slaughter and death. One got lucky and slammed a hammer into his upper left arm shattering it, but he didn't care. He was distracted he didn't realize he was standing outside, drenched in blood and his armor integrity basically nothing. Pain flooded into his body and he realized the level of shit he was in once clarity hit. In front of him stood close to seventy-five Brother of Steel members and a dozen vertibirds. At the lead was Elder Lyons. At her flank was her Sentinel, Maxson.

"Get on the ground and hand over your weapons and armor," Maxson yelled, his younger voice bleeding through the speaker. "How about no," Ridger responded said, "How about I go on my way and you fuck off?" He started walking back into the building. A laser rifle shot slammed into his back and he fell to the ground, the force knocking him on his ass. Had he not been through hell the shot would've been ineffective. But he had been through hell. Every bone and muscle ached and his armor was heavily damaged. His eyes began to close and things went dark.

P.O.V. Paulson

"Ridger's in trouble boys," Michael said, "We've got Brotherhood,"

"Damnit," Paulson shouted, "All right, I'm taking command. Michael, keep watching them. Fawkes, Squirrel, keep ready for a quick evac, maybe a firefight. Leo, Elliot, Marco you're with me. Stay close." A sprint broke out as they ran Marco took a position in a window, Elliot and Leo moving with Paulson due to their limited ranged. Exploding out the door they kept their weapons level with the brotherhood. Every weapon became trained on them. "Don't," Paulson shouted, "You might have us outnumbered but we got you outgunned," The Fury floated over the building and its guns revealed themselves. Like a cat's claws. Four disintegrators and a pair of the weapons that the crew of the Olympus called Drone Cannons was now trained on the Brotherhood soldiers. Even without its shields, the Fury's hull was strong enough that the brotherhood would need to bring to bear their tesla cannons to even consider doing anything more than scratching the paint.

The Brotherhood retargeted their weapons to face a new threat. Over comms, Paulson heard Fawkes calling for a lightning strike to be prepared if shit got dicey. The lead figure of the Brotherhood, an individual wearing a suit of T-50 assault pattern power armor, moved forward, their weapon set on the ground. Removing their helmet, they revealed the face of a blonde woman in her mid-twenties. "I am Elder Sara Lyons of the Brotherhood of Steel, what happened to your ally was unintentional. The soldier that fired the shot will face court-martial. Now, identify yourselves,"

"We know exactly who you are," Paulson said, lowering his weapon, "We have many names, but the one most commonly used is Olympians. A settlement, bout fourteen miles North, requested our assistance in the recovery of abducted members of their community,"

"Just the five of you?" another soldier wearing t-50 assault armor shouted, advancing.

"Make that six," Michael said, stealth field disabling with an atomizer pointed at the advancing soldier. It would do more damage than the sniper could against a suit of assault power armor. Several members of the Brotherhood directed weapons towards him, but no one fired. Not yet. The air was so filled with tension Paulson could've blunted a knife trying to cut it. "Look," Paulson said, keeping his voice level, "We wanted the same thing. The mutant citadel is cleared out. Let us get our superior out of here,"

Before Lyons could answer the man behind her spoke up, "Negative, you will submit your weapons and armor to the Brotherhood waste lander,"

"Maxon!" Lyons shouted. Uncle Leo stepped forward, raising his hammer, "We are leaving. We are leaving with our weapons and friend Ridger," Lyon's face sprouted surprise and, for a short moment that Paulson might've imagined it, relief. "You can go, take him," she finally said. "Elder?!" Maxson shouted.

"I said enough Maxson," She shouted at her Sentinel. Elliot ran forward, holstering his weapon, and pulled Ridger's helmet off. His face was bloodied and bruised, his right eye swollen shut. "Can we move him?" Paulson asked the medic, not taking his eyes off the collected Brotherhood.

"Should be…" Elliot was cut off as a laser shot struck his upper torso but his combat armor held, for the moment. He fell to the ground. Paulson saw it came from a building two hundred meters behind the Brotherhood. "Sniper!" he yelled. The group ran for cover. Leo ran forward, Paulson fearing he was charging to attack. Instead, he slipped the hammer into its harness on his back and dragged Elliot and Ridger to cover. The Fury began to spray shots into the Brotherhood lines. The ones wearing Recon power armor and weaker simply disintegrated, like the mutants. The ones in assault armor took a few shots but went down. Missiles left their tubes aboard the craft and shot out, blowing apart the Vertibirds.

"Fury one, break off. I repeat break off," Paulson shouted. Switching to long-range, "Hades base, this is Cowboy, requesting emergency teleport evac on my position. Cosmo and Aspirin are down, no fatalities,"

"Copy that Cowboy, deploying lightning strike to give you some breathing room," Flashes of blue light erupted around the battlefield. On buildings and in the street soldiers materialized. They joined the fray, each of them a master of their craft. Some were swordsman and struck with their blades. Others were marksman and executed Brotherhood members, making every shot count. He looked to his left and saw one of the reinforcers slapping a frequency homer onto Uncle Leo. The mutant disappeared in a flash of light. Forgoing his radio, he shouted, "Olympians, disengage!" Blue light flashed and the Olympians disappeared, even the dead as to not give the Brotherhood anything from this battle. He, Marco, and Michael ran back into the compound to make for the exfiltrate point.

Marco took a hit from behind, a plasma gun hit. Shot sheared through his battered armor and struck his spine. He slid inside and pulled himself behind a corner. "Go!" he shouted. Not having the time to argue Paulson and Michael ran. He heard the explosion as Marco detonated a plasma grenade, and screams as Brotherhood got caught in the blast. Victory or Death, never surrender. Reaching the exfiltrate point the Fury opened its cargo doors and the pair ran inside. Strapped in the ship began its rapid ascent, leaving behind ruin and death. "Marco better clean that fucking gum off my shuttle's floor!" Squirrel yelled.

"Marco's dead," Paulson informed him.

"Damn," Squirrel said, forlorn, "my last thoughts of him were how much I fucking hated him…now he's dead,"

"Such was war," Paulson thought.

Author's Note

Things are starting to heat up and now where Ridger went is revealed. What do his connections mean for his future? What do they mean for Sara? Who knows, even I don't.

Review Plz


	4. Chapter 4

Light flooded into the room. The covers of the bed were softer than practically anything he'd ever felt, and he actually had more than one pillow. He then realized that there was some else with him. He turned and saw Sara, still asleep. He smiled, seeing her there. The light disappeared; the bed was gone. He found himself on his knees, a rifle to his head. Sara was in front of him, a pistol to her head. He looked at the man holding the gun and saw the face of Colonel Augustus Autumn of the Enclave. "Let her go you son of a bitch!" he yelled.

"As you did at Megaton?" the colonel asked. The weapon discharged but before Sara was killed the scene shifted to a massive swamp, one he remembered from his time at Point Lookout. "Why did you do it?" said a women's voice. He turned and saw Moira Brown. She was covered in blood and her skin was blackened. "Why?" said the voice of Lucas Simms, similarly injured and stained. "Why?" went Nova, Glob, Moriarty, and every other person who called Megaton home. "GET AWAY!" he screamed. The scene changed and now he stood in front of his father, "How could you have done this?" he asked.

"Father…..I didn't…I wasn't…." Ridger tried to say, but he couldn't form a sentence. "You are nothing but a disappointment," his father told him before raising a gun to his head and taking his own life. The scene shifted to snow. A blizzard had rolled in. He was standing out in the open. The shelling began. He was thrown from his feet and next to him was the corpse of a young man, barely in his twenties. His lower body was gone and his blood stained the snow. He was trying to call out, trying to beg but he couldn't. Ridger stood up and looked around him. U.S. and Chinese Soldiers littered the ground around him. Standing amongst them was a blacked armored figure, wearing a deathclaw gauntlet. He marched toward the figure, "Who are you?" he asked. The figure didn't move. "Who are you?" he asked again, this time shouting. "I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is a thirst of the water of life, freely," the figure said, before turning to face Ridger.

It was his face, not the one he wore now. The face he wore when he destroyed Megaton, enslaved people for Paradise Falls, and got his father killed. The face he wore before he redeemed himself by throwing Tenpenny off his balcony, the face he wore before he slaughtered Paradise Falls, the face he wore before he ended the Enclave. The face he bore now was crafted by Pinkerton, to replace the face that inspired fear across the Wasteland. Now it stared at him, angry. "I am you, as you are meant to be," the man snarled, "I am the equalizer. The one to rebuild mankind,"

"Through fear? Through slaughter? Through slavery?" Ridger shouted. The man smiled, a wicked smile that he wishes he had never been able to make, "Through strength," he lunged at Ridger. The clawed hand bit deep into his chest and he screamed in pain. "I am you! I am you! Iamyou! Iamyou!" it screamed.

His eyes fluttered open and he was washed in light. There was a movement to his right and he reached for the knife he kept sheathed to the bed frame. If it had been his bed frame Dr. Katerina Vonlasky, the most qualified doctor left on Earth would've died and with her, much of the knowledge on Neurosurgery and Human Psychology left on Earth would've been lost forever. Instead, he hit the air and rolled out of the medical bay cot. Attempting to rise he wobbled, his body not fully heal.

Gaining clarity, he took in his surroundings and saw the shock on her face. "I'm sorry," he said, panting, "You startled me." He tried to rise again and held the wall, "How long?" he asked her. "You shouldn't be standing," she told him, "As in, you shouldn't be physically capable of standing,"

"You should know by now doc, I'm full of surprises," he said, bursting into a coughing fit. She guided him back to the cot. She grabbed a needle and began to draw a drug into it. He could smell it... "No," he told her, "No sleeping drugs." She looked at him like he was crazy. "You need sleep," she told him.

"No, what I need is to get back to work," he told her, "Now, get me the after-action report for the Mutant Citadel Op and a Nuka Cola Quantum,"

"No," she said.

"What?" he responded.

"You are in no condition to be doing any work, let alone functioning. That layer of metal in your muscular system Pinkerton implanted isn't enough to limit the amount of damage you took. That mutagenic concoction that ant studying bastard injected you with, is strength, not endurance. The Punga anti-bodies in your bloodstream help deal with toxic organic matter. Finally, that radiation vaccine from the Pitt is just that, a radiation vaccine. So, how are you not in agonizing pain?"

He stayed quiet. She was staring into his eyes at this point, the eyeliner that she made herself adding to the piercing gaze. "Do a brain scan," he told her. She looked confused. "Do it," he told her harsher. She used the portable tool salvaged from the alien ship to scan his skull. The look of shock on her face told him that she discovered the Combat Enhancer Chip that had been given to him by Dr. Zimmer. "Ever since it was implanted pain was, less of a problem," he told her, "I don't understand it, but most of it doesn't phase me anymore."

"That doesn't mean the damage isn't there. You need rest," she told him.

"What I need is to make sure my people are okay. That everything is running smoothly. That…. that…." he couldn't focus. Everything began to spin and he passed out.

The dreams came. A man in an eyepatch, a man wearing sunglasses, and a man in a red suit. Werhner, Burke, and Eulogy. The men who had made him a monster. They beat him. Others joined them; he couldn't see who. He didn't fight. He was tired. "Get up scavver," said the voice. The voice that drove him. The voice that dictated his every waking moment. "Don't let these bastards keep you down," Anger flooded into him. He grabbed a man's crowbar and ripped it from their hands. He slammed it into another's head. He screamed in anger. He swung. And swung. And swung. When the weapon was knocked from his hand so he punched. And kicked. And clawed. He kept fighting until they were all dead.

Their bodies were around him, but their wounds weren't from the blunt force trauma. They were like the way he had left them out of his dreams. Werhner's good eye had been shot out. Eulogy's crotch region had been melted off with a plasma weapon. Burke's neck had the marks from being hung off Tenpenny tower. She stood there, as beautiful as ever. She looked like the day he met her. In power armor, helmet removed. Grim and sweat on her face, rifle in her hand. "Stop the pity party," she told him, "You are a fighter, you are a soldier, you are a paladin." She stepped closer, he knew it was a dream but he could feel her breath, "Get up,"

His eyes snapped open. He pulled himself out of the cot, no wobbling. He walked out of the med bay. Elliot noticed him and tried to get him to sit back down, "Ridger, you aren't ready to be walking around," He simply scoffed, "I'll be fine," pushing Elliot away he marched off to the galley, everyone watching him as he walked by. Entering in he grabbed a whiskey, popped off the cap and had a drink. "You're awake," Sally shouted. She ran to him, embracing him in a hug. "Hey little girl, how are you doing?"

"You got shot and beat and you're asking me if I am okay?" she asked him in a joking tone that only teenagers could get. "It's my job to keep the crew in good shape, you're part of the crew." The fourteen-year-old girl was probably the most valuable person on the ship. She was the only one who could find the paths to the most valuable salvage aboard. She could find the lockers with the guns, the crates with the biogel and adhesive, the functioning agri-cubes, and the salvageable scrap metal.

"Yo, boss," Somah shouted, "Someone's calling your name on the radio," he stood up, "Duty calls," he marched towards the command deck, not realizing the level of shitshow he was about to enter.

Author's Note

We've got an understanding of what makes Ridger tick, but is that all that's hidden behind the curtain or is this just a taste of what's to come? Also, who's calling him? What do they need? Why him? Who knows. Please Review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Years in the future**

**P.O.V. The other Monster**

Years in the future

P.O.V. The other Monster

He woke up in a cold sweat. The nightmare had come again. His wife being murdered. The scarred man, that woman in the hazmat suit. They killed her in cold blood. They stole his son. They froze him again. Left him there. When he left the vault, he was angry. That anger was inflicted on the raiders attacking Preston and his group of survivors. He slaughtered them like he had the Chinese during the war.

Dogmeat looked up at him from the floor, concern on the dog's face. "Come on boy, let's go for a walk," he told the canine. Leaving his house Dogmeat ran over to one of the trees next to the minuteman statue outside of his home. Continuing down the street he admired the work he and the other members of the Sanctuary community had done. They had started with the walls, his military training telling him to expect an attack at any time. Leaving parts of the wall open at the river to allow people to view the landscape. It also allowed a place to remove any trash. They had made use of the ruined houses for shelter, reinforcing the ceilings and walls.

Continuing his walk, he was greeted by one of the guards from the battlements. He waved back. They had started with only seven people, not enough to have a constant watch. That was solved by Sturges, the certifiable genius he was. He managed to rig up a number of automated turrets to watch the perimeter cutting down the need for human guards. Once more people arrived, he had tasked Sturges to get the power generator from the Museum of Freedom to establish some semblance of a power grid for lights and other amenities.

He decided to take a walk outside of the walls Dogmeat running to catch up. The memory was brought to the forefront again. Nora being killed, Shaun being taken. Tear's streamed down his face. Dogmeat placed his head against his hand, whining sympathetically. "Why'd she have to die?" he asked the dog. "She was all I had besides Shaun and they took him from me as well,"

The dog sat up onto his hind legs, a little trick that normally brought a smile to his face. Now, he continued to cry. Dogmeat whined again, a sympathetic whine. "Why does this world have nothing but Chaos? Why is nothing safe, nothing sacred?" he said again, in despair, "Why does no one watch over his neighbor? Why have we devolved to this?" He unholstered his .44 revolver and pulled the hammer back. He raised it to his chin and began to shake. Dogmeat just stared at him, cocking his head to the side in curiosity.

He pulled the trigger and heard a click. The gun had jammed. He knew that wasn't possible, he always cleaned and maintained his weapon. It was a sign, a sign that he was needed. A sign that it wasn't his time to die. He stood up, knowing his mission. He ran back through the gate and sprinted to the Minutemen barracks. Slamming the door open several people were startled awake. "Preston," he shouted.

Pulling him out of his bed and grabbing for his musket. "General?" he asked, "What's going on?"

"I have it," he said, super excited, "I have it!"

"Have what sir," Preston said, confused.

"The way forward. The way forward for the Minutemen," he said, "You fell before because you weren't properly organized. Weren't properly established. I can change that. The Minutemen won't just be a part of the Commonwealth we will be the Commonwealth,"

"Sir?" Preston asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am," he answered, "Don't you see? We will place Order into this Chaos, not just challenge it. We will provide Safety where there is none. Order and Safety, that is what we need." He looked back at Preston and smiled happily. "Get the boys ready, we're going on patrol. We are going to hunt down every piece of raider garbage this side of Lexington,"

"Order and Safety," he thought.

Author's Note

A few hints at who this 'other monster' is. If you think you know who this is (as in who's take on Fallout 4 this is) leave a review and who knows maybe your right. Also, minor update involving next week. Next week I'll be uploading two things. Chapter six of this and something special for Marvel and Halo fans so looks out for that.

Thanks for reading this far and please review


	6. Chapter 6

Back** to the Present**

Marching towards the bridge after Somah a gravelly voice shouted, "Sir." Turning Ridger saw Charon, his ghoul bodyguard. "Charon, enough with that sir shit," Ridger told him, "If you want to speak formally its Captain. And talking in a hallway isn't a formal setting. Right now, its Ridger,"

"Yes si…. I mean Capt... I mean Ridger," the ghoul said, the rapid word change making his already gravelly tone harder to make out, "I'm glad you're not dead,"

"Boss, let's go. Leave the zombie," Somah shouted, earning a growl from Charon.

"Somah, no xenophobia except towards aliens," Ridger shouted.

"Yeah you negro bitch, no xenophobia," Michael shouted, wearing his uniform from the American Civil War. The tan clothing was well pressed and showed his rank as a Cavalry Captain of the Confederate Army. "Be quiet you racist pig," Somah shouted back, her voice filled with venom.

"I don't think I will, cotton picker," he retorted. Somah went for her caravan shotgun while Michael raised his LeMat Revolver. Charon unshouldered his double-barreled shotgun, pointing it Somah while also drawing his 10mm pistol and pointing that at Michael. "Don't," the ghoul growled. No one lowered their weapons. "Put them down," Ridger said. He had no weapons drawn but everyone knew he was still the most dangerous person in that hallway. "NOW!" he shouted, raising his voice. Guns were holstered.

"Somah, show me what you wanted to show me," he said, regaining his composure, "Michael, go help sanitation and think about which words are appropriate to use around me," Michael saluted and marched off. Somah started to smirk, "Cut that out," he told her. Her face returned to a neutral stance.

Entering the bridge Somah led him and Charon over to the station that had been identified by the techs as the comm station. It was able to pick up practically every communication on the planet, not that there were many left. The one that they were tuning into now chilled Ridger to the core. "This is Elder Sara Lyons of the East Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. There has been a coup, most of those loyal to me are dead or dying. Requesting any assistance available on my position immediately. Ridger, if you can hear this, I need help." The message went on repeat, starting from the beginning.

He immediately walked towards the nearest weapons locker, but Somah stepped in front of him. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked. He pushed her out of the way and grabbed an Atomizer. He marched to the bridge teleporter. "You are in no position to help anyone," she told him, but he wasn't listening. He locked the teleporter to the coordinates where Sara's message was emanating. The green light showed a lock lit up and he activated the teleporter. The moment of weightlessness that came with having your molecules ripped apart then reassembled hit him and in that same moment, he felt himself rematerialize. Somehow, he appeared right between three Brotherhood Outcasts. In a split second, thanks to his combat chip, he sighted and fired at all three targets. They disintegrated into ash. He rolled away to a ruined car, praying that no one was using it for cover. "Battle is joined," he thought to himself.

P.O.V. Sara Lyons

She thought it was over. That no one was coming. She, and what was left of her loyalists, were held up in the ruins of a prewar parking garage on the North-Eastern part of D.C. Maxson hadn't been subtle with his calls for action, petitioning for Sara to be removed and for him to take her place. Many of the lower ranks supported the decision, the reinforcements from the West and members of the Outcasts that had crawled back to the Citadel begging for redemption. That had meant little though because she still had the support of Rothchild, the senior paladins, and Lancer Captain Diomedes.

Then the coup came. Rothchild and Diomedes were killed with a plasma grenade when the pair were going over blueprints in the mess hall. Kodiak had been gunned down in the armory. Vargas had been in Sara's office with her when the attack on them occurred. Fortunately, the pair were armed and Sara had a loyal guard wearing the assault pattern armor watching her door.

From there they executed a plan that she hoped she'd never had to enact. Word spread to her loyalists from alarm, word of mouth, and the general explosions that rocked the Citadel. Her people tried to secure what resources they could and make it to the vertibirds. They had managed to escape with about fifty fighters and twenty scribes. Most of their vertibirds were shot down and they had to reconvene at this sight. The fighting was hard and they didn't have enough vertibirds to get everyone out. Someone would have to die.

That was until a blue light flashed and three of the traitors were disintegrated in front of her. She couldn't tell for sure who it was, but she knew that it was Ridger. He darted to the cover of a ruined car and continued to fire at the traitors, each shot eliminated a foe. He was on his feet, but even from the distance between them, she could see he was injured. His left arm was dislocated and both his legs had a limp.

"Ridger, get to cover!" Vargas yelled snapping off several shots to cover his friend. Others, emboldened by the Paladin, joined the volley. Some overzealous members even leaped out of their cover, taking advantage of the shock and awe, charged with rippers, power fists, and super sledges. More flashes of light exploded around the ruins and more fighters materialized. They supported the push made by Ridger, firing their weapons. She noticed that they were ad hoc at this moment, a far cry from the fight she saw several weeks ago. Some wore armor, others did not. Some wielded weapons like the one Ridger was using, others did not. One man, dressed like a feudal samurai, charged forward, wielding a Shishkebab sword. Las shots against his armor seemed to sputter and spread across the armor, blackening the paint but not visibly harming him.

The Traitor Brotherhood attempted to rally, form up and counter-attack. It was almost impossible as they were not in a proper defensive position and were getting hammered. When the line of melee fighters hit the Traitors began to suffer heavier casualties as they weren't equipped for it. The strange weapons wielded by these soldiers made Sara feel uneasy, even as they were turned on her enemies. They could disintegrate soldiers in recon power armor, few forms of protection were better.

The strange craft from the Mutant Citadel descended from the sky, its arrival heralded by loud rock music. Its weapons made themselves known butchering the rogue Brotherhood members. They broke. They ran. Like rats from light, they ran. Ridger's allies took up positions to watch the streets. To watch the skies. To guard the wounded. The ship landed in the open and its ramp parted. Ridger's people started to move their wounded and dead aboard the ship. "Lyons," Ridger shouted. She turned to look at him and her heart stopped for a moment. He was limping on both legs. She had been right; his left arm was dislocated. It also looked like he had stitches that had been torn as blood flowed from many cuts on his body.

She almost regretted calling him. "Are you good?" he asked her.

"Am I….." she said, "Ridger you look like you've been to hell. Why did you do this,"

"You called for help, I came," he told her. He opened his mouth to talk again but he began to stumble and suddenly fell to the ground. "Ridger?!" she shouted to him. His men ran forward, weapons raised at her. "Step back," a man dressed like a Mojave Native told her, a revolver pointed at her head. Another man, this one the medic from the Mutant Citadel, checked Ridger's vitals and began to drag him to the ship. "Now, it's fairly obvious that you folks are in a sorry state, well guess what? We know a place that you could get some help," the Revolver wielding man told her, "Up North there's a town called Breadbasket. They have a little thing for taking in the less fortunate. We'll take you that way, in exchange for you not shootin us again. Fair?"

With no options on the table and a lot of wounded Sara only had one thing she could say, "Alright,"

Author's Note

Maxon's true colors are shown and the Brotherhood's been split. How will this affect the wasteland? Oh, that's right Fallout 4. Nevermind. Sorry for missing last weeks upload, I thought it published my bad. And about the other story, the site's acting up and won't let me post new stories. Trying to get that fixed. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**P.O.V. Sara**

After a few weeks, the Brotherhood Loyalists had managed to develop a sense of normalcy in their lives. The Mojave like man, Paulson, had kept to his word and taken them to the settlement of Breadbasket. Significantly farther North than the Brotherhood had cared to go the settlement had remained away from their notice. The town had built up around a vault that had been equipped with a low-level GECK that had made the landscape easier to grow crops in but not too different from the rest of the wasteland as to draw the attention of the Brotherhood by way of rumor.

That didn't stop the Enclave from establishing themselves within the settlement and took up the role of protecting the settlement in exchange for food and recruits. They had managed to justify their belief of purity by not allowing intermingling of the civilian populations and by giving the Breadbasket drawn recruits the worst jobs. After the BoS-Enclave war, the forces garrisoning Breadbasket stayed. Contact with the Olympians was going to be hostile until the Fury made its teeth known, then they were willing to talk. Ridger's place among the Olympians almost started fighting but fear of superior firepower kept them in line.

The Olympians provided their skills in the medical, engineering, and agricultural fields to aid the settlement in exchange for the Vault, which had been relegated to storage. The city grew rapidly and the Enclave population grew more and more amicable to the Olympians. So, when they asked the settlement to house members of the BoS for a time, few raised their weapons. The people of Breadbasket even went out of their way to help. Several scavenging runs later and they had created a mini settlement outside their bounds that provided plenty of space for the Brotherhood.

The Brotherhood had a supply of caps that they used to trade for food and water, but slowly it was realized that they needed another option or else their basic supplies would've dried up. They cannibalized two of their remaining seven Vertibirds for parts. They also sold their services to the people of Breadbasket as mechanics and guards. Whether it be caravan's or outlying farmsteads someone always needed guarding and the Enclave garrison was limited functioning not just as settlement guards but also law enforcement for a town of close to three hundred people.

She was outside of her quarters cleaning her laser rifle in the natural light. A Brahmin train carrying various luxury goods like alcohol, chocolates, holotapes, cigarettes, and much more. Most off-duty Brotherhood members were spending the pittance of caps or trading what little they have for some other objects. A shadow covered her and she looked up seeing the Fury. It landed outside the bounds of their encampment and its ramp began to lower. She saw Ridger, wearing his winterized power, being flanked by a ghoul.

She set her rifle down on the table she had been working at and ran over to him. Other members of the encampment reacted, moving to the outskirts. Only she continued out further. The wounds on his face were completely gone, not even a scar. She couldn't believe it. "Sara," he said. She smacked his face and found herself in pain. It was like she had hit a wall. He had shown no sign of pain. "Adamantium skeleton, as Pinkerton called it. Metal plates under the surface of my skin. Had a less invasive version installed a little after the conflict with the Enclave,"

"What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?" she asked.

"That's what I want to show you," he said, gesturing to the shuttle, "Would you like to take a look?" He was offering to be open about things. "Alright," she told him.

The ship was not what she was expecting. She was expecting a spartan, organized system similar to how he ran his units in the Brotherhood. Instead, it was a fairly ad-hoc system of rules enforced mostly by Ridger's presence and common sense. People wore pretty much whatever they wanted, many even openly carried weapons.

He had started by showing her the "plaza" as he called it. It was a central room that connected the Engineering and Cryo facilities as well as the hanger and teleporter hub. People were milling around, eating and drinking seemingly without care. There was also a large sheet of metal propped up in the middle. The ground around it was littered with various items. The metal had the words 'Those died fighting the Good Fight' engraved on the top. Below the epitaph was more engravings that, under closer examination, she read to be names and dates. She noticed that most of them came from the firefights against the Brotherhood, filling her with a sense of dread.

"Most of these people are dead because of us," she said.

"No," Ridger said quickly, "Because of Maxson. Come on, there's more to see." And indeed, there was. While the main assembly line had been destroyed in the battles for the ship, it still possessed the ability to produce the adhesive they used as well as reshape sheets of metal for their needs. The cryo facility had been mostly gutted. The pods that Ridger said had dominated the space had been replaced with constructs that reminded her of many wasteland towns. Walls of scrap metal and wood had been erected to provide housing for people.

"The alien crew compliment was much smaller than their captive population," Ridger said, "As a result, we didn't have enough quarters for everyone at the start. These constructions give people a place for themselves and a few businesses had cropped up." That statement came as they walked past a brown-skinned woman who was selling various vases decorated with artistic symbols. "Mosi was a member of the Anasazi. Their people were taken by the aliens for their studies," he told Sara, "While they did typically abduct us in ones and twos every few centuries, they would abduct large numbers of people for their experiments. She and her husband were potters, damn good ones as you saw,"

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Fifth row, third column," he told her, "The wake-up process was not good for the human mind. A Laconian, a Spartan, was woken up and went berserk. Bashed his head in before we could restrain the man,"

"What did you do with him?" Sara questioned.

"Gave him a thermic lance and a shield resembling the ones he wielded back in Hellas," he answered, "We don't have the luxury of passing up good fighters. Past grievances, old enemies, and crimes long past are ignored. Besides, her husband was sleeping around. Odds are she was going to kill him eventually." His nonchalant response was disconcerting. Not that it was about death, but rather murder. Things did seem seriously different on this ship.

Author's Note

So, there are not just soldiers on Olympus. And not only that, but it seems that morality may be a bit more flexible here than in the wasteland. What will this Adhoc society bring to the wasteland? How will the rest of the world accept these relics out of time? Again, even I don't know.

This chapter is getting posted on schedule, sorry about last week. Thanks for reading have a good night (or day).


	8. Chapter 8

P.O.V. Sara

He continued the tour showing her around the town, that she later learned had been named Elysium. People of more races and cultures than she knew existed seemed present. Hellenists, Celtics, Romans, Mongol, Apache, Cherokee, Han, and more and more.

Stalls and stores sold a variety of goods including food, pieces of art, soaps, books, and much more. Items that even the wealthiest members of the wasteland scarcely had were sold and sold like commonplace amenities. It shocked her. A group of children ran past herself and Ridger shrieking with laughter, playing with plastic guns that had low yield laser pointers as the barrels.

"Found a cache of those in an old toy factory a few weeks back. Managed to salvage them and distributed them to the children," Ridger said, a smile touching his lips, "The number of complaints I've gotten from people over the kids running and playing uncontrolled is definitely worth the laughter of children playing,"

She couldn't help but smile as well. His bodyguard, Charon as Ridger had called him, remained a mask of indifference. A running child bumped into her and fell down. Sara leaned down to help the little girl up. "Thank you," the child said. A man reached for the girl's shoulder and said something in a different language to her before pulling her away from Sara.

She didn't understand exactly what that was about until she looked closer at the resident's expressions. Many had signs of anger on their faces, others of sadness. It dawned on her, she and her comrades had killed these people's friends and family. Her smile left her.

Ridger seemed to notice this and tapped her shoulder, "Come on, when's the last time you had a decent meal?" he asked, "Let's head up to mess hall,"

What had originally been the Alien's mess hall had been turned into the hall used by the military arm of the Olympians. Looking around the room she saw that while the civilians had been eating what one would expect, mole rat meat, mongrel meat, mutfruit, and other wasteland found foods, the soldiers ate a different meal. One dish was a strange worm thing with strange glistening growths on the carapace and curved teeth. Another was a strange squid thing that looked like a green mutfruit with spindly limbs.

"Nonperishable alien provisions," Ridger explained, "It's a very acquired taste. Unfortunately, we don't have enough fresh food for everyone so fighters are given alien provisions civilians are given supplies acquired from the wasteland, as it's mostly their caps paying for them." He grabbed two of the platters and set them at a table. Sara sat down but immediately noticed several people getting up and walking towards her.

**P.O.V. Ridger**

He had wondered how long it would take for his people to get violent. He had kept the visit a secret, hoping that the shock would keep violence to a minimum. Somah, Jorvik, Wilson, and Miranda were the first to get up from their seats, though others quickly followed until about twenty people were up and moving towards him and Sara.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Wilson asked. Marco was his twin brother, and his death hit the man hard. "Wilson, you're angry I get it. Stand down," Ridger told him, his voice calm and level. Wilson's hand started to move to his handgun, as did many others. A shotgun being leveled stopped all movements. Charon was standing at the door, his shotgun leveled at Wilson's head. "Go for the gun you die," he said, in a near whisper. The hands all stopped.

"Sara Lyons is my guest here and is under my protection. So, stand down," Ridger said, his voice still level. "Marco's dead because of her people! He's not the only one either! Things were going good until the Mutant Stronghold where her people butchered us!" he shouted at his commanding officer, "Then we lost more saving their asses from their little family dispute! And now you're risking a war with the Enclave to keep this whore and her…." He didn't get to finish that statement as Ridger had grabbed the other man by his throat and lifted him into the air, "When I say stand down YOU STAND DOWN!" he shouted. Every single person in the room instinctively took a step back, except Charon.

No one spoke up. No one acted out. The only thing that happened was Wilson pissed his pants. Ridger dropped Wilson and walked to Charon, "Get her out of here. If anyone tries to stop you send them to the hospital understand." The ghoul nodded. Ridger turned back to the assembled crowd, "Don't make me say it again," They dispersed and Charon grabbed Sara's shoulder. "Let's go," he told her.

"Let go of me zombie," she told him.

"No xenophobia!" Ridger shouted, his blood still hot. Realizing what he had done he turned away from her and marched out of the room. He heard her trying to follow but Charon stopped her. He kept walking.

**P.O.V. Charon**

The bitch would not stop trying to fight him. She was shouting at him, calling him zombie. Insulting him. Berating him. At one point she threw a punch at him. He took it. He was used to the hate. The anger. What he was not used to was it not being his appearance, but it being his orders. She felt that she needed to see his master. That she deserved to. Whether she did or didn't wasn't his matter. What was, was following orders.

"Listen," he told her, "You are getting on that shuttle and leaving this ship. Or else you are going to get killed." Seemingly on cue, a mob of people rounded the corner. In their hands were metal rods and wooden planks. "Give us the bitch," the lead man shouted, "Now zombie," Charon stepped forward and slammed his fist into the man's face. He fell to the ground, crying. Charon kicked him, twice in the gut once in the face. "Anyone else want to get in my way?" he asked. The man tried to get up. Charon kicked him were it counted. He stayed down.

"Let's go," he told Sara. In shock she obeyed. Squirrel and Fawkes were standing by the shuttle, playing a game of Shroud. They looked up and saw him approaching. "Warm the Fury up and get her back to Breadbasket. Ridger's orders," Charon told the pair. "Whatever the boss man says," Squirrel said, dropping a card onto the table. "Come on big guy, I win," Fawkes just smirked. "Sure, you did," he said, flipping over a card on the table. "Fuck," Squirrel shouted "Every fucking time,"

As Sara boarded the shuttle Charon remembered one of his master's drunken rants while the pair had been on the road. It brought a slight frown to the ghoul, knowing that the one thing his master wanted he would never have. But that wasn't his concern, he reminded himself as he exited the hanger, ready to receive new orders.

Author's Note

Hey, sorry for the late upload. I finished this today and wanted to proofread it, might've missed a few things. Writer's block has been a bit annoying, seeing as most of my plans for this come much later. So updates might become a little more infrequent, I'll try to stick to once a week but I won't make any promises. Also, I've had no fixes for the publishing problem so I'll just link the Drive folder for the Halo/MCU crossover here. Enjoy and thanks for reading.

file/d/16uV3FuyS2xj6RfH7Rn_SpSMC_IbNq9wp/view?usp=sharing


	9. Chapter 9

P.O.V. Lieutenant Richard Nox

"Alright boys lock-in load, we're going in hot," Bradford, the pilot of Demon 1, one of the eight vertibirds assigned to the Black Devils shouted over comms. The vertibird speakers started blaring a pre-war song that had developed special importance to the Enclave Remnants. And the lyrics were really damn good. "Americaaaaaa, Americaaaaaaaaaa, MERICA Fuck Yeah! Coming again to save the mother fucking day yeah!" the speakers went. "Alright boys let's send these bastards back to hell," Nox shouted as he leaped out of the Vertibird, his assault pattern power armor making any fears of injury from the fall none existent. "…now you have to answer to MERICA Fuck Yeah, so….." the song was censored by the sound of vertibird mounted miniguns opening up, filling the skies with hot lead death.

He switched his suit's squad comms on and the song blasted into his ears, "Johnson, turn that off! Or for pities sake at least keep at the squad level!" he shouted. The music returned to only being an ambient noise from the gunships. "Alright boys," he shouted, referring to the other four suits of assault pattern armor that were on the ground with him, "Let's fuck'em up," Not exactly regulation speech, but when your organization is only about five hundred strong and relying heavily on a civilian population for the three Bs regulations weren't the biggest concern. At, least not for the Black Devils.

Bullets from the raider positions plinked off his armor. The highest caliber guns were dealing out 5.56 and there weren't many of those, even fewer after his weapon barked. The full-auto plasma gun tore threw the raiders. The little recoil the weapon gave was immediately countered by his suit, making every shot hit his target. "It's the dream that we all share, the hope for tomorrow. Fuck Yeah," the speakers on all eight vertibirds blared, their guns not interrupting as the gunners let them cool. Another thing that pre-Ravenrock commanders would frown at.

A missile shot out from the raider compound and at one of the vertibirds. Its anti-missile flares shot out and drew the missile away from the craft. That meant they were tracking capable, meaning that at least some of the raiders had prewar military-grade weapons. "Alright, birds offload the rest of the platoon and give me one more pass then break away. Don't want to test any more luck," The pilots all affirmed. They were all soldiers and all knew that they might need to give their lives one day. But today was not that day. Today was not one of the great battles to rebuild America. It was eradicating out the vermin. It was cleaning the gutters. It was pest control.

More raiders streamed out of the fortifications. They were clearly drugged up, the incoherent screaming, their spasming bodies, and their increased stupidity. One idiot even attempted to charge a squad of power-armored infantry with a fucking tire iron. He wasn't worth the plasma that goofied him. It was clear the raiders had no grasp on reality, they kept calling out strange cries like "Do you like the sight of your own blood!" or "I like it when they fight,". No rational person would be crying such things when facing down an Enclave strike force.

A squad of Enclave troopers in recon power armor came running to his side, one of them sporting a missile launcher. "Break that palisade!" he shouted over external speakers. The trooper nodded. He lined up the launcher on his shoulder and fired. The missile shot forward and exploded against the scrappy palisade erected by the raiders. Metal, wood, and bodies flew from the impact.

"Push forward!" Nox shouted over external speakers, "Keep up the pressure!" The explosion seemed to sober up several of the raiders and they tried to retreat. Tried being the keyword. No quarter. No mercy. The retreating raiders felt las rounds and plasma bolts against their backs. Keyes charged forward in her suit of X-01 assault pattern power armor. Rounds struck the front of her armor but did nothing. A raider had stumbled and slid down the hill towards her. She didn't seem to notice or care about him, just crushed his spine as she ran. He thrashed for a little bit but went still.

More Enclave units streamed into the gap of the wall, butchering any raiders that got to close. In the base of the cliff was the prewar military facility that had allowed this raider gang to grow to this level of threat. Missiles, laser weapons, combat armor, gatling lasers, and much more. They had started raiding the surrounding area for the past two weeks, pillaging farms and taking caravans. Now, it was time for the Enclave's Devils to step in and dispense justice on these bastards.

Author's Note -

Shorter Chapter today, mostly because most of my writing this week has been on other projects. Next week should be longer. Also, like this, it will contain some large scale firefights because I feel those have been lacking. Thanks for reading and please review.


	10. Chapter 10

P.O.V. Joe the Unbeatable

"FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK," Joe was shouting as he pulled on his combat armor. His "companions" were doing the same, though the drugs were making it difficult. Figures, his castle was under siege when he was enjoying some company in his bed. "Tell me the what the fuck is going on Josef, and someone get me some fucking jet for my god damned nerves!" he shouted.

"Some guys rocking black power armor with laser guns and these…. things that shoot green goo. I think we kicked a Stingwing nest with our recent raids boss," his second in command shouted. They were running down the stairs, weapons in hand. While the outside had been scantly defended inside the base there was an army of raiders, near a hundred. While most had shitty pipe guns and bits of scrap metal tied to their bodies, a good three to four dozen were well-armed.

Combat and assault rifles, combat armor, grenades, miniguns, gatling lasers, missile launchers, and so much more. And all of that was getting lined up on the door, ready to blow whatever came threw to Hell. He hefted his full-auto assault rifle up, its sixty round drum topped off with armor-piercing rounds. Several scantily clad, bomb collar wearing women and men ran along the line, passing off drugs, ammo, booze, grenades, weapons, and everything else that the raiders would need to hold their line.

The sound of an impact against the main door shook up a good number of people, but everyone held. Then another. The third ruptured the door open and every gun opened up. Out from the gap came five massive black-armored figures, red spotlights emanating from their helmets. The green goo that Josef had told him about exited the weapons and struck across the line. Their advance did not halt, they just walked through the fire.

Raiders were dying by the dozens, and the fire lessened. Then, they broke. They ran. Many dropped their weapons, practically threw them at the advancing armored men. The only difference between them and those at the barricade was they were shot in the back. His gun clicked empty and Joe turned to his attendant for more ammo, only to find her upper body completely disintegrated. He turned back just fast enough to see the burst of goo that would end his life.

P.O.V. Lieutenant Richard Nox

Even after the shattering of their major defense, and the death of their leader, the raiders kept fighting. Not that Nox cared. It was what he was bred for, raised for, and trained for. It was also, what he lived for. He'd been offered two promotions and he rejected both. Taking them would mean being stuck at a desk, organizing the company rather than being on the ground with his platoon.

The ping of 5.56 caliber rounds striking against his armor alerted him to several raiders that had flanked him. Turning to his rear he identified three raiders, all with horribly painted combat armor. He guessed they were supposed to be a depiction of a Yao Guai but after a few blasts of plasma, they were just melted bits of metal merged with hot flesh.

He continued down the hall, plasing any raider that didn't get smart real quick. He reached the end of the hall to a door that would take him to a major internal storage depot. He opened the door and immediately closed it, not that it mattered. The shot from the tesla cannon tore it open and sent him reeling. He ducked into a room. A pair of troopers ran past, thinking the coast was clear. He couldn't warn them quick enough. The shot tore right threw them, didn't even slow down.

"Heavy fire on my position," he reported over the comms, "Tesla Cannon, two of ours are down,"

"You need assistance?" Mason asked, the sound of gunfire spilling from his end. Nox smiled. "Negative," He pulled a pair of plasma grenades of his belt and clicked them live. Tossing them around the corner, into the room he heard a "feminine" voice shout "GRENADE!" before they detonated, filling the halls with the screams of the damned. He turned the corner and into the room. The Tesla cannon was no longer operable. A plinking noise brought to his attention a survivor to his right. She was on the ground, her legs burned off. She was firing a 10mm pistol at him, not that it did anything.

He marched towards her, not even bothering to raise his weapon. Her gun clicked empty and she tossed it at him. It harmlessly hit him in the chest and fell to the ground. She turned away, trying to crawl towards a crate of some kind. He walked past her and opened it. It contained about half a dozen assault rifles. He smirked behind his helmet, "Even with this, you have no chance," She couldn't hear what he had said, not that it mattered.

He turned back to her and leveled his boot over her head. She continued to crawl. No begging, no pleading. He could respect that. He slammed his boot down. The crunching sound of bone-shattering mixed with the squelching of grey matter and blood flying. His boots and legs were stained red, as were the floors and several of the crates.

"Status," he said over the comms.

"Sector 3 clear. Six casualties, zero fatalities," Mason sounded off.

"Sector 2 is being mopped up. Three casualties, one fatality," Keyes announced. The sound of several plasma shots from Keyes's comms was followed by, "Update, sector 2 is clear,"

The other sectors sounded off, fairly similar reports. All in all, they had lost nine people total in the operation and a further seventeen had been wounded. Of those wounded only four were critical, but they would most likely recover. "Alright, sweep and clear one more time. The Dagger Wolves will take care of salvaging the bases cache,"

"Yeah, first round's one me boys and girls," Mason shouted over the comms, causing a few cheers to erupt. "Another successful op for the Devil's," Nox thought to himself.

Author's Note

No real updates for this week, just hope everyone who reads this has a good week and stays healthy. Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

P.O.V. Richard Nox

"Another one for the Black Devils!" Mason shouted entering the Salty Skorp, the Enclave bar of Breadbasket. Having earned its reputation by the high number of Enclave personal that frequented the establishment, and the changes the owners had made to appeal more to the demographic. American and Enclave flags covered the walls along with Pre-war and current Pro-America Propaganda, a favorite of Nox's being an image of an Enclave Soldier with the phrase "Democracy is Non-Negotiable," across them.

Half of the platoon had managed to get an off shift and they were spending it drinking, for their own reasons. Some drank because it was all they could spend their caps on. Other's drank to win caps or show off to squadmates. Then, there were those who drank to drown out the pain. While the op had gone smooth, not everyone had made it back. A constant reminder that no matter what, someone had to die. Victory wasn't free, wasn't easy, and wasn't bloodless.

Mason made his way to the risen platform at the opposite end of the bar counter and grabbed the microphone sat there. Drinking wasn't the only way his men chilled out after an op. In Mason's case, it was karaoke. He tapped the mic, making it sure it was working, before beginning the song. "We might be crazy, we might be drunk, but we're sipping on whiskey and now here we come," Mason sang, albeit not well, "And we're riding dirty, this must be fate, three words are for your face, Bitch I Operate,"

His singing became the backdrop for dozens of conversations. Some about gambling, others about the upcoming Baseball game the citizens of Breadbasket were having, and so on. One conversation that persisted on the fringes contained bits of survivor's guilt. Why did I live? Why didn't I die? Why did they die? Questions Nox had asked himself many a time but had now gotten past. They were soldiers, losses were a part of their career. Didn't stop the ache though, just redirected it.

"Mind if I sit here Rich?" Keyes asked him.

"Free country, at least what's left," he answered, pulling out a chair for her. She sat down and waved down a waitress, the same one she always did. "Let me guess," the waitress said, "Thing of Klang's moonshine and sweet roll?"

"That'd be good Cass," Keyes told her.

"Anything for you lieutenant?" the woman asked Nox.

"Scotch," he answered. The waitress nodded and walked off, Keyes's eyes following her as she went. "When are you going to go?" Nox asked his subordinate, who didn't meet his gaze. "Sir, with all due respect I have no idea what you're talking about,"

"Uninterested, not blind," he told her. Whether he was picky or simply not biologically capable of romance, Nox had never felt an attraction to anyone. That being said, he still could read emotions and tells in other people, especially when they couldn't hide them very well like Keyes.

"You've been biding your time for weeks now, just ask her," he told her, "Worst thing is she says no," Keyes turned to look at him, ready to speak before he cut her off, "When your not looking I've seen how she glances at you. She feels the same. So, either grow a backbone or you are getting stuck cleaning latrines until you do," she pursed her lips.

Cass returned before Keyes could speak again, setting the drinks and the pastry down she turned to walk off before Keyes stood up. "Hey, Cass," she said.

"Yes?" the waitress asked, turning back.

"You mind…. going to lunch with me sometime soon?" the Enclave trooper asked.

The waitress blushed a little, "Yes, I would like that," before walking away, to clean off tables. Keyes sat down. Her face was first one of shock, then of joy as her smile went ear to ear. "She said yes," Keyes said, in a low voice. "What'd I tell you," Nox said, taking a sip of his scotch.

Without warning a massive explosion flared from the front of the bar, engulfing a large number of people in flame. Screams and cries of pain were prevalent. A pair of masked figures were running from the site, the words "For the Brotherhood," leaving their lips.

Nox pulled himself from the rubble, his head throbbing. He turned to Keyes, only to find a piece of metal having punctured her throat. "Damnit," he cursed, barely able to breathe. All around were the dead and wounded. Flags were burning, shattered glass covered the floor, and growing pools of blood were everywhere.

A fragile peace had been shattered, now only a justification of war sat in its place.

P.O.V. Ridger

"Did you have to break the table?" Paulson asked him after he had slammed his fist into it. The news about the bombing and the suspicions about the perpetrator were not needed. He had woken up with a bad headache, the news had only made his day worse. Compounded even more was his loss of composure in front of his men. He got control of himself and answered Paulson, "My ship, my table, I can do whatever I what with it,"

"Your ship?" Michael asked, mild bemusement in his voice.

"According to salvaging rights, yes its mine. If you want to dispute it bring it up with Charon," Ridger responded, an attempt to redirect his thoughts to humor. Barely worked. "Back to the shitstorm that's been stirred up on the surface," Paulson said, "How do we proceed?" Ridger paused before answering the man, "Not here, get Somah, Toshiro, and Fawkes. Have them head to the command room, we'll plan from there," His men nodded and ran to get the others.

"What are we going to do ma…Ridger," Charon asked, correcting himself.

"Keep the shots from firing on the surface," he answered the ghoul.

Ridger and Charon arrived after everyone else, Ridger needing to get control of his emotions. This consisted of repeatedly assaulting a series of punching bags, each of them only surviving a few blows before beginning to hemorrhage sand as he punctured them. This only made his headache worse. He also noticed that he had developed a nosebleed.

Arriving at the command room he saw that the men and woman he had requested had arrived, plus Katerina. "You are not needed Vonlasky, head back to the med bay,"

"Forgive me, but you are attempting to keep two militarist cultures that despise each other from massacring one another, while it appears that one has already engaged hostilities. There will most likely be a need for my supplies so I would like to be included in the planning,"

"Can't argue with that logic boss," Paulson said, earning a glare from Ridger.

"Alright, let's get started," Ridger said. For the next hour or so plans were tossed around, vetoed, ignored, elaborated, and more. The entire time Ridger's headache got worse and worse. "Hey boss, you good?" Paulson asked, his face covered in concern.

"I'm fine," he told the cowboy.

"Cause uh…you're bleeding from the nose," Paulson said, "Like a lot," Ridger felt just below his nose and he felt blood. He looked down at the table and saw it dripping. He tried to stand then fell. He felt his body convulse and spasm, slamming against the chair and wall. Charon and Michael were trying to grab him but Fawkes and Katerina stopped them. "Let him spasm, you'll hurt him more if you try to stop him," His spasming continued, getting more and more violent until he slammed his head against the wall extra hard and all went black.


	12. Chapter 12

P.O.V. Paulson

"Get him on the table now!" Katerina shouted. After Ridger had stopped spasming Paulson and Michael had picked him up and had carried him to the med bay. On their way, many people had seen what state Ridger was in. Within minutes most of the ship knew about the situation.

After the cowboy and cavalryman laid Ridger on the table Elliot and Katerina began strapping him down, to minimize damage down from future spasms. "What's wrong with him?" Paulson asked.

"I don't know," the doctor told him, "Elliot, use the alien med scanner, check his vitals," The Army medic nodded, powering up the device she had specified. The spasms began again, causing Ridger to thrash against the restraints. Katerina took a syringe and filled it with a fairly strong sedative. She stabbed the needle into his neck and the spasms seemed to calm down.

"Elliot!" she shouted.

"Scan's finished," he told her, "It's coming up negative, it says nothings wrong,"

"Could his adamantium skeleton be disrupting the scans?" Fawkes asked, entering the room.

"Where the hell did you run off to?" Michael asked he super mutant.

"Ridger?" Sally asked, the little girl obviously distraught.

"Why did you bring her here?" Paulson asked.

"She is his daughter, she has the right to see him," Fawkes said. Sally moved to Ridger's side and started to shake his shoulder, not fully understanding what was happening. "More her away, now!" Katerina shouted. Before anyone could move her away lashed out, the only thing keeping in line was his restraints. He started to scream. Incoherent words and phrases. The thrashing began again, still limited by the restraints.

Paulson grabbed the scared girl and pushed her to Fawkes, "Get her out of here,", to which the super mutant did without a word. "Michael, Charon watch the doors don't let anyone else in," Paulson told the ghoul and confederate.

"My place is with him right now," Charon said.

"I am your superior officer Charon, and if you need a better reason it's because people are less likely to ignore your threats so get out there," The ghoul nodded, understandingly, before doing as he was ordered. "And where is Somah?" No one seemed to have an answer. "Fine, we'll worry about that later,"

"Got it," Elliot said.

"Got what," Paulson asked the medic.

"What's causing this, the combat implant in his brain is…" the medic tried to say before being cut off.

"What implant?" Paulson asked.

"Right, you didn't know," Katerina said, "It was a payment from a man named Dr. Zimmer for a bounty that Ridger completed before taking the ship. From the damage it's done to the brain, I can only assume that it wasn't installed properly. This, combined with his other augmentations has done severe damage to his brain. I am surprised it's only just started manifesting,"

"What can you do?" Paulson asked the doctor.

"We need to get that implant out, as well as apply biogel to regrow portions of the brain," she told him, "and yes, I am aware he would be pissed at the use of biogel for one person but we have no other options," Paulson paused, before telling her, "Alright, do what you need," He left the room and was met with some a crowd that had formed. Charon and Michael were trying to keep them back.

The sound of a shotgun down one of the halls dispersed people and sent Paulson, Charon, and Michael running to the source. A few others had arrived at the site of the shot, a closed-door to a minor storage room. They were about to breach when Somah opened the door, raising her hands above her head.

"Somah," Paulson shouted, "Where'd you run off to?"

"Wilson came to me after you took Ridger to the infirmary. He was being hysterical, took me here. Told me he attacked the Enclave,"

"Wilson? Bomb-making isn't his expertise," Michael said doubtful.

"I thought the same thing, he said something about hiring a raider to help him out. He wanted me to help him out, seeing as how I hate the Brotherhood. I told him no and he went for his gun,"

"Doesn't matter now, take him and tell the Enclave to get off the warpath. If they don't tell them we'll side with the Brotherhood," Paulson told them. Before anyone could question him he added, "Ridger would've wanted us to help the Brotherhood. Get to work," The group dispersed, a few people moving to take the corpse to one of the transport shuttles. Michael moved closer to the Paulson and whispered, "She's lying,"

"Not now," Paulson said, "We can't be divided, not with a firefight about to break out on the surface,"

"And with Ridger of the table," Michael added.

"Especially that," Paulson grimly responded.

Author's Note -

I hope everyone is doing good despite what's happening in the world right now. Nothing but good wishes for everyone who's in a rough spot right now because of it. To give a little something extra during quarantine I'm going to be posting a one off Fallout story in a few hours so be on the look out for that. Again, hope everyone is doing well and stay safe.


	13. Chapter 13

"Move it jarheads! Got Reds on my tail!" Sergeant Benjamin "Benji" Montgomery shouted. The men of the Blizzard Stalker task force moved from their rest positions and snapped to combat positions. Weapons raised down towards Benji's path. "Where's the Lieutenant?" Corporal Samuel "Dogma" Wallace question his superior.

"Dogma, is that a question you're really asking?" Private Jefferson "Silver" Monroe asked his comrade, hefting his light machine gun a little higher, "He's probably giving those Yellowskinned bastards something to think about," A few moments passed. Nothing happened. "Are you sure they were coming?" Corporeal Lydia "Man-Eater" Harrington asked, not taking her eye away from her sniper scope even for a second.

"I think I'd know if a bunch of communists were shooting at me," Benji shouted. Rounding the bend came a man wearing Winterized American Combat Armor, sprinting at top speed. Behind him came a Chinese Chimera tank, spraying rounds at the running man. "Give the lieutenant some covering fire!" Benji shouted, "Man Eater get that launcher up!" The woman didn't bother affirming, she didn't need to. Jumping down from her elevated position she grabbed the launcher from their cache of weapons and loaded a missile in.

The tanks main gun retargeted and started firing at the marine position, sending snow flying. "Man-Eater!" Silver shouted; his voice more joking than panicking. She stepped into the open and fired the missile at her target. The missile screamed away and slammed into the tank. Its armor crumpled as the projectile pushed deep into the tank's hull. Almost as rapidly it detonated sending metal shrapnel flying.

"When I left, they didn't have tanks Charlie, what the hell happened," Benji said, slapping his friend on the back.

"Seems the Reds didn't take kindly from me killing their boys from that ridge line," he said, "Also sniped some of those Crimson Dragon fucks, they really don't like dying to snipers.

"Alright sir, what are your orders?" Dogma asked. Lieutenant Charles Jameson gave the man a smile, "I was thinking we make some fireworks. Sound good?" Affirmations were given all around. "Alright then, call up Valkyrie and have her bring up the rest of the boys,"

"I count about three infantry platoons and about a dozen Chimeras," Man Eater said, keeping eyes on the base.

"Make that four platoons and twice that in tanks," Benji added, putting the binoculars done, "Look West," The woman obliged and shifted her weapon to where Benji called out the enemy reinforcements. "Well, that's just peachy,"

"It's just more dead reds," Silver said, lighting a cigarette.

"Are you sure that those don't have any cannabis, seeing as it's fucking with your head?" Sergeant Melinda "Valkyrie" Ross asked Silver, her winterized t-51 power armor clanking as she marched up to the lookout nest.

"As sure as I am that you're a full metal bitch," he joked, putting the cigarette into his mouth. She lightly hit his shoulder in response. Well as light as one could in power armor. "So, lieutenant, what's the plan?" Charles put his own binoculars down. "Myself, Man Eater, Benji, and anyone with some competency around sniper rifles will fire down on the bastards from this ridge. Meanwhile, the rest of you will be about here," he said, pointing on a map, "When the shooting starts, they will get those tanks moving to engage us. When that happens Silver and Valkyrie will lead a team to engage those tanks. Missiles, grenades, bullets, lasers, rock, whatever. Draw their fire, and stay alive. Most likely they will move most infantry inside, away from our line of fire. That will give Dogma and whoever's left a chance for the base,"

"Then we set the charges at the fuel canisters and AA guns," Dogma said, "Just like basic training,"

"Exactly," Charles answered, "With any luck, we cripple the reds push on this front and go home. First-round will be on me boys and girls. Now, let's kill ourselves some reds," The gathered soldiers saluted and moved off to make their preparations or to brief the rest of the men. All excluding Benji. "Why do you keep me from the fun jobs?" he asked. Charles smirked, "A near-suicide mission being fun, only roof jumping Benji would find that fun,"

"If I remember correctly you were right there with me," Benji retorted.

"I was there so you wouldn't embarrass yourself in front of Sarah," he told him. A silence fell between them.

"So that's the reason…" Benji said, "You aren't letting me go balls deep for her?"

"She's already lost her brothers to this war, losing you would be too much," Charles told him.

"She'd still have you," Benji told him, "If any of us are getting out of this it's you," Charles stayed quiet. "She picked you and I'll respect that. That ship sailed for me," His best friend smirked, "Alright, fair enough. Guess I'm a sniper now,"

"Seeing as you can't hit a barn wall inside the damn thing, you're more of an ammo attendant," Charles told him, getting an enraged reaction.

"If you remember right there was a hole there and you startled me," Benji answered. Charles just started laughing. "It's not that funny," he said, "And please, don't tell the others. I'll never live it down." His friend continued laughing. "You know what, I don't have to take this," Benji said, walking off. His friend's laughter continued until he was out of earshot. Then it stopped. "Why couldn't he remember that hole?" he thought.

The world began to spiral between dark and light. Color seemed to lose its meaning. He felt himself spin and stop. Spin and stop. He felt himself wretch with nothing leaving his throat. He snapped up and found himself in a place he did not recognize. He began to think and realized he remembered things that he shouldn't be able to. Names, places, organizations. Things that felt familiar but at the same time he had never known them.

"Ridger, you're awake," a man he remembered to be named Elliot said. He wore winterized combat armor and had various emblems identifying as a member of the U.S. military. Yet used the name Ridger. "Soldier, report. What happened to my unit?" Charles asked. The man looked confused. "Unit?" he said, shocked, "Ridger, you've been unconscious for weeks. You passed out during a meeting…don't you remember?"

That name again, Ridger. And meeting? Did he mean the mission briefing? Whatever he needed to go There was a war to win. He pulled himself out of the bed, nearly stumbling and walked off. "Sir, you need to rest," the man told him. Charles shoved him aside. Elliot was thrown against the wall harder than Charles thought was possible. The sound of a bone-breaking and the man screaming shocked him. He looked at his hand. "What the…. how…. what?" he said panicking.

Two more men entered the room, weapons readied. One-armed and dressed like a sci-fi Spartan. The other looked like a Samurai. "What's going on?" the Samurai asked, noticing Elliot on the ground. "I don't know…" Charles said, still panicking. The men approached him. "Stay away!" he shouted, "Where am I? Where are men?"

"You are aboard Olympus," the Samurai told him, "Your ship," The name, Olympus. A space ship. He had been abducted, took the ship as his own. No, that can't be right. He had worn power armor. He had been abducted in D.C. but he had been nowhere near D.C. He had been at Anchorage, he had been fighting the Reds trying to secure….to secure…..he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember the town's name. It was a coastal town….or was it inland?

He began to panic more. "What did you do to me?!" he shouted. More people arrived, all but one armed. The unarmed woman stepped forward, past the soldiers. "Ridger, you have just recovered from brain surgery. It is natural that you are confused. Sit down and…"

"I AM NOT RIDGER!" Charles shouted, "I am Lieutenant Charles Jameson of the U.S. Marine corp….." He couldn't remember his company. His regiment. Not even where he was stationed before Operation Blizzard Haunting. Brain surgery, she mentioned brain surgery. "What did you do to my head? ANSWER ME!"

Authors Note

I'm posting this earlier than normal for a few reasons. The biggest being I burned myself out of this fic, not quitting this fic just taking a break. I want to step away and come back with a fresher perspective on the story I want to tell. Also the one-off I released Friday the 27th has got me thinking and as much as I hate myself for it I'm going to make it a full on story. Anyway, hope everyone is doing well in these trying times.


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